


Tangled Up in Blue

by redtulipslove



Series: Running Circles Around Time [5]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Mush, Fluff and Smut, Love, Lust, M/M, One True Pairing, Romance, Sensual Play, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 08:55:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16426292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redtulipslove/pseuds/redtulipslove
Summary: This is the fifth story in my "Running Circles Around Time" series.These stories stem from my over-active imagination and a need to fill in the gaps of those in-between days and moments that Elio and Oliver shared when they became lovers, but we never saw.





	Tangled Up in Blue

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this story is a song of the same name by Bob Dylan, from his album "Blood on the tracks". This is one of my favourite songs, and I have wanted to write something based on the lines quoted from it below for some time. There is controversy over which Italian Poet Dylan is referring to, but my research showed it is Dante, although this isn't conclusive as even Dylan isn't sure himself. But the lyrics are beautiful regardless of which Poet he meant.

_She opened up a book of poems  
And handed it to me  
Written by an Italian poet  
From the thirteenth century  
And everyone of them words rang true  
And glowed like burnin' coal  
Pourin' off of every page  
Like it was written in my soul  
From me to you  
Tangled up in blue_

\- Bob Dylan

 

Elio's POV

Early one morning, as the sun was shining, I lay in bed and watched Oliver sleep. He was lying on his side, his face squashed into the pillow. I had woken earlier and despite feeling sleepy from a late night, I couldn't stop myself from indulging in looking at the man who had turned my world upside down, in the very best way. We had reached a deep understanding of what we felt and I was delirious with joy that his feelings matched mine. 

I lightly traced my fingers through his hair, flecks of gold reflecting in the morning sun, and continued along his shoulders and back. I pressed my hand gently on his skin and felt his steady breathing underneath my palm. I was eager for him to wake up and look at me. I had become used to having that connection with him every morning, and I didn't want to think about when I wouldn't have it anymore. 

After a few minutes, he stirred and his eyelids fluttered open. The smile he gave caused my insides to flip, and I kissed him on the cheek before burrowing my face into the crook of his neck. I heard a welcome moan in response, and felt an arm wrap around my waist.

"I need to sleep in more often if that's the greeting I get," he said. His voice was low and sleepy, and full of appreciation. He shifted until he was leaning over me. 

"Good morning," he said, stroking my face. His eyes were bright and matched the morning sky.

"Good morning," I replied, suddenly feeling bashful now his attention was completely on me. 

"I enjoyed last night's revelry," he said. "Although that wine your mom brought out was lethal. Are you feeling as hungover as I probably look?"

I shook my head. "I didn't drink as much as you - I've had that wine before. You look perfectly fine to me. More than fine, actually." I liked being free to say such things openly to him, knowing I could and that he liked hearing me say them. It stirred strong emotions in me that I wasn't used to having reciprocated.

"You have no idea how you look to me right now," he said, tracing his thumb along my bottom lip. 

He continued to stare at me and I couldn't think of a single thing to say. 

I wrapped my arm around his neck and brought his mouth to mine. We kissed deeply and I felt dizzy with want. I would never tire of how this made me feel. They lasted for a long while and I was soon beyond delirious with my need for him. 

We were too far gone to do anything more than jerk off, so I brought our cocks together and we came quickly and simultaneously, and I could tell the spontaneity of what I'd done had turned him on. I had every intention of doing it again when we were both fully awake, but with much more careful consideration. 

I grabbed Oliver's shirt off the floor as I went to the bathroom. When I returned, Oliver was sitting up, the bed sheet barely covering his hips. I cleaned him up, and was about to take the shirt off when he told me not to.

"I like it on you," he said, kissing my chest. "And besides," he said, pushing the blue cotton out of the way as he slid his hands around my body, "it's more yours than mine now anyway." 

He was recalling the request I'd made after we'd made love for the first time. I had only wore it once since, and it had turned him on then too. 

When I climbed into bed, I saw he was holding a book, and it reminded me of the conversation we'd had before falling asleep.

"That's the book we talked about last night," I said.

There'd been a loud and lively discussion about poetry the night before, and Oliver had been a keen participant. It thrilled me to watch him so animated and excited about a subject he was passionate about. The conversation focused mainly on romantic poetry over the centuries and when everyone had gone, Oliver had asked me to help him look for a particular book that had been discussed. I knew we had it as Dad had spent many rainy days engrossed in its pages. I couldn't be happier when we found it. He was even happier that it was the English version. 

We'd brought it upstairs with us, and talked about it a little while, before sleep had taken over and the book had fallen to the floor.

"I know we talked about reading it to each other," he began. He seemed shy for a moment, looking down at the book then back up at me. I cocked my head to give him encouragement to continue what he wanted to say.

"I would like us to do that," he said. "But just for today, I would like to read it to you. Would you like that?"

I felt as giddy as a child on Christmas morning.

"I would like that very much," I said.

He smiled widely as he held his arm out and I crawled over to settle my body against his. He brushed his fingers through my hair and kissed the top of my head. I kissed his chest. He smelled like sweat and I resisted the urge to lick him. 

Apart from the sound of the cicadas outside the window, the only noise came from Oliver as he turned the pages of the book. It was old and faded, with pages torn and the spine creased from endless readings. 

"Dante Algiheri wrote this text in 1290, and called it " _La Vita Nuova_ ," he said, in his best Italian. This sounded familiar from our late night conversation. I let Oliver's warm, deep voice wash over me.

"It's a collection of sonnets and poems for Beatrice, the love of his life," he said. 

As Oliver spoke, his hand touched me so gently I thought I might melt away. 

He began by describing Dante's reaction to seeing Beatrice for the first time.

_"At that moment, I say most truly that the spirit of life, which hath its dwelling in the secretest chamber of the heart, began to tremble so violently that the least pulses of my body shook therewith; and in trembling it said these words: Here is a deity stronger than I; who, coming, shall rule over me.”_

The intensity of those words spoke to me in a visceral way and I felt them in the depth of my guts. 

_"I come to you expecting to be healed_ ," he recited, and my heart thumped wildly as his honey voice filled the room. He continued to stroke my hair as he recited the sonnet.

 _"and if I raise my eyes to look at you, within my heart a tremor starts to spread, driving out life, stopping my pulses’ beat_.”

As he continued to read more words from the book, his fingers caressed my skin which tingled at his touch. In this moment, it occurred to me that we could be the only two people that existed in the world. I wished for it to be true. Would time be good to us and pass us by? 

_"I see your eyes, I see how they have wept, and how you come retreating all undone; my heart is touched and shaken at the sight_."

His hand continued to stroke me as the words Dante had written for his beloved worked their way through me, and in me, down into my body and wrapping themselves around my heart. I trembled as I struggled to keep myself from weeping. I could do nothing but hold him. 

As I waited for him to continue, I felt Oliver's presence so strongly next to me. His heart beat fast and fiercely, and I knew the effect of these words on me was the same for him. Dante may have written those words, but Oliver was making them his. 

"Hey," he whispered, and I looked up at him, aware that everything I was feeling would be written all over my face. 

"These words," he said, "only go some way in showing you how I feel." He kissed me lightly on the lips, picked up the book and carried on.

The intensity of their meaning, coming from Oliver's mouth and intended only for me, was overwhelming.

 _"In that book which is my memory, on the first page of the chapter that is the day when I first met you, appear the words, ‘Here begins a new life’_.” 

"Oliver," I began, my eyes stinging as they filled with tears.

He shook his head. 

"Remember," he said softly.

"Elio," I corrected myself. He smiled then. A smile so sweet I could have cried with joy. 

"Oliver," he said in return and I wanted to bury my face in his body forever.

"That's who we are," he said. 

The birds were still singing as he placed the book down and wrapped himself around me and his shirt. 

xxxxxxxx

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked the story! Kudos and comments are always welcome! The song this title comes from has been covered many times by various artists, and two of my favourites are live versions by KT Tunstall and The Indigo Girls. Check them out!


End file.
